The Curse of the Dark Mark
by Lynliss
Summary: Snape is not pleased to be assigned as the protector of the new divination professor. Still, something draws him to her. Her traumatic past rises to haunt them. Will their newfound love be enough to save them, or will it be their destruction? Please R
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:**  All characters that appear in the published works of J.K. Rowling, along with all places and plot points appearing therein belong to her.

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Severus Snape ducked his head as he stepped into the organized clutter of Albus Dumbledore's office.  Sunlight glinted off the shiny metal arms of several astrolabes that sat on a nearby table.  Most of the portraits were softly snoring, but a turbaned man was arguing vociferously with the silver-haired woman in the frame above him.  Snape turned away with a look of barely contained contempt.

Where was Dumbledore?  The summons had been unusually curt for the old Headmaster.  _Be in my office fifteen minutes before dinner._ Snape caught sight of Fawkes, the renowned phoenix, preening on his post beside the Headmaster's desk.  The office smelled of old leather and spices.  Inviting, he supposed.  His own office in the dungeon reeked of potion ingredients and the stench of soiled surfaces left to fester.  Not even members of his own house, Slytherin, lingered long there, and Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws went out of their way to avoid spending any time in the cold, forbidding stone room.  He could hardly blame them.  He took no joy in it himself, but over the years it had become familiar.  It was no more than he deserved.

"Ah, Severus," spoke Dumbledore, descending the steps from his observatory, "You are here."

"You asked for me, Headmaster?"

"Please, have a seat."

Snape nodded and settled gingerly into an ancient leather chair.  The frame creaked, but held.

Dumbledore stepped behind his desk and sat down, then opened a large volume, scanning the yellowed pages with one finger.  Seeming to find what he was looking for, he gave a satisfied grunt.  

Snape laced his fingers together and schooled himself to patience.  Over the years he'd learned that trying to rush the Headmaster would get one nowhere.  Best to let him go his own way, and you'd learn what you needed soon enough.

"Now, then, Severus.  The reason I've asked you here.  You have heard, perhaps, that Professor Trelawny is taking a sabbatical this year?"

Yes, he'd heard.  He couldn't say it saddened him, either.  The fool woman was always predicting someone's untimely demise, as if it were an honor, or as a means to draw attention to herself.  She didn't know what it felt like to live with death as a constant specter, always looming just outside her range of vision, its chill fingers gripping around her heart in the dead of night, waking her in a cold sweat, throat raw from screaming...

"Severus?"

"Yes, Headmaster.  I'd heard."  He shook himself.  This was no time to dwell on the pain that was his life.  Albus Dumbledore was the only one who knew.  The only one who understood.

The Headmaster's face softened momentarily.  "It is no weakness, you know, Severus."

Choosing to ignore the Headmaster's words, Snape changed the subject.  "And Professor Trelawny's sabbatical should interest me why, precisely?"

Clearing his throat, Dumbledore pulled a scroll from a drawer and unrolled it.  "A new teacher of divination has been appointed for this school year.  Her name is Rowena Rowan."  He glanced over the top of his spectacles at the potions master.  "I need you to take her under your wing.  See that she is familiar with Hogwarts and its-- quirks."

Startled, Snape sat up straight.  "Why me, Headmaster?"

Snape could not abide divination.  It relied too heavily on hocus-pocus, on magic that was neither tangible nor quantifiable, on the powerful hold that the practitioner wove over her subjects.  It smacked of coercion, and coercion was a very sore subject for him.  Not once had he been witness to a prophecy he fully believed.  Occasionally, Professor Trelawny had startled him, almost enough to pierce his firmly held prejudice, but never quite succeeding.  Her theatrics grated on his nerves.  And now there would be a new seeress...

"Because, Severus, I trust you.  I cannot tell you everything, but Miss Rowan is coming to us for more reason than to teach our students.  She needs a friend, a protector.  I think you are that person."

Abruptly, Severus rose to his feet and crossed to a diamond-shaped window that looked out over the lake.  His body vibrated with frustration.  He crossed his hands in front of himself, his fingers digging into his forearms.

"You don't understand what you ask."

Dumbledore's voice was soft as he replied, "I understand, Severus.  More than you know."

Late summer sunlight sparkled off the rippling waters of the lake.  So peaceful, so beautiful.  Years ago, Snape would have been happy to walk along its shore in quiet contemplation.  Before the day his life changed forever.

He spun to face the Headmaster.  "I cannot do this.  Please do not ask me.  I am forbidden friendship."

Albus rose to his feet, shaking his head.  "You are forbidden nothing.  You choose to keep yourself close.  _You_ choose this, Severus."

Angrily, Snape ripped back the sleeve of his jet-black robes, revealing the dim outline of the Dark Mark, emblazoned forever upon his skin.  "This!" he spat.  "This forbids me!  I beg you, do not ask this of me."

"I am sorry, Severus.  I have no choice.  Rowena Rowan must be protected and there is no one better suited for that duty."

Severus Snape clamped his jaw, reining in his anger, struggling to calm his racing heart.  After a moment's pause, he bowed crisply to the ancient Headmaster.  "I will show this _divination _professor the ways of Hogwarts.  I owe you this much as your teacher.  I will not-- cannot-- swear to be her friend."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.  "So be it.  She will be introduced in the Great Hall just before the sorting."

Severus turned and stalked towards the exit.

"And, Severus," Dumbledore called after his departing form, "Welcome back."

Snape paused for a moment, then stepped onto the spiral staircase.  As the stairs descended he heard Fawkes' high cry echoing off the stones.  He shuddered.


	2. The Feast

Rowena Rowan paced back and forth in the hidden corridor that ran behind the head table in the Great Hall.  A great rustling echoed between the stone walls, laced with laughter and cheerful greetings.  She shivered.  She was always cold.  Even now, in the height of the summer heat, the cool breath of danger seemed to breathe down her very neck.  A thunk sounded behind her and she spun about, heart racing.  A house elf skittered past and picked up the pewter pitcher it had dropped.

"We begs your pardon, Miss," it called as it ran off down the corridor.

The swift rush of her blood back into her limbs left her trembling, and she leaned up against the cold stones, suddenly unable to hold herself steady.  Silently, she cursed herself for a fool.  Dumbledore had told her she'd be safe within Hogwarts walls.  He was the most powerful wizard of the age.  If he said she was safe, she was safe.  Then why couldn't she shake the paralyzing fear that hounded her steps, the memory hidden deep that taunted her with flashes of deadly horror?

Suddenly, she became aware that Dumbledore was speaking in the Great Hall.  _I present to you, Professor Rowan, divination..._

Gathering her wits firmly about her, Rowena pressed herself away from the wall and stepped through the concealed entryway.  A hail of applause broke over her.  The riotous colors of the hangings screamed from the walls; a sea of unfamiliar faces stared up at her, some smiling, some accusing.  She nearly retreated back, but Albus Dumbledore dropped his hand onto her trembling forearm.  "Steady, Rowena," he spoke under his breath. "Steady."

Swallowing convulsively, she summoned a smile.  Dumbledore raised his free hand for silence.  "Thank you for your welcome," she said, surprised that her voice came out louder than a whisper.  "I look forward to meeting you all in your divination classes."

Applause burst out again, and Dumbledore squeezed her forearm gently.  "Well done.  Your seat is waiting just there."  He gestured to a seat next to a formidable looking wizard, with jet black hair and eyes nearly as dark.  The expression on his face was far from welcoming, but the empty chair at his side beckoned.

She nodded.  "Thank you, Headmaster."

#

Snape watched the girl with something akin to dismay.  Girl?  Yes, very little more than a girl.  She was tiny, could barely come up to his shoulder, were he standing, her bones as light as a bird.  Soft hair as pale as moonglow drifted about her face, where it had fallen loose from her braid.  She looked as if a breeze would blow her over.

For a moment, he thought she would bolt.  The students and the other professors looked on, not seeing her distress.  How could they miss the fear that radiated from her, so intense he could nearly smell it?

Foolish question.  They'd no reason to recognize it.  Her tremors must look to them like simple nerves.  The hall quieted for her to speak.  Her voice was like birdsong, entrancing.  Applause filled the air and Snape blinked.  He'd missed what she'd said.

He scowled.  She was the loveliest thing he'd seen in many a year, like winter moonlight.  The scowl darkened.  Lovely or not, he could give her no more thought than the portraits that lined the corridors of Hogwarts.  He'd do what Dumbledore asked of him, then he'd never have to see her again, except at mealtimes.  The divination tower was as far from the dungeon as one could get.

She was coming towards him.  Her ice-blue robes reflected in her eyes; he thought they must be grey.  Two steps from her seat, her knees buckled and she staggered.

Before he could think, Snape was on his feet, steadying her by the arm.  Keeping firm hold of her with one hand, he pulled out her chair and settled her into it.  Her arm trembled in his grasp, but she did not pull away.  Instead, she smiled up at him weakly.  "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he sneered, dropping back into his own seat.  What had happened?  He couldn't very well have let her fall, he chided himself.  Common courtesy dictated his actions.  Nothing more.

He felt a pair of eyes upon him and glanced up to find Dumbledore watching him expectantly.  His hand tightened on his goblet and he was surprised to find his knuckles whiter than his already pale skin.  No use putting it off.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Rowan."

#

Rowena fell gratefully into her seat.  At last, the attention moved away from her and she began to be able to breathe again.  It would have been utterly humiliating to collapse two steps from her chair, her very first day at Hogwarts.  She smiled over at the dark wizard who had saved her from that fate.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Rowan.  I trust you will be comfortable here?"

His icy tone belied the welcome in his words.  The black depths of his eyes betrayed no emotion.  It was like he was dead.  She gulped.

"Yes.  I'm sure I'll be quite happy, Professor...?"

"Snape," he snapped.  "Potions Master and head of Slytherin House."

Rowena bobbed her head.  "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Somehow she was not surprised when he did not reply with the usual, _the pleasure is mine._  He merely grunted and turned his attention to the front of the hall, where the first-years were making their way towards the head table and the Sorting Hat.

Here, at last, were faces that were nearly as frightened as her own.  She smiled.  This was why she'd come to Hogwarts, rather than take refuge in an isolated safe house.  She wanted to reach out and embrace the children, to reassure them that all would be well.  For the most part, it was true.  Hogwarts was more than an institution of learning.  It was a haven.  A home.  A family.  Each of these students belonged.  She was only a guest.  A flicker of envy ran through her.

She watched in fascination as the sorting began.  Her own school had had so few students that there was no need for houses.  Her parents, who had attended Hogwarts, had named her for the founder of Ravenclaw, in the hopes that she would one day become a member of that house, but with their deaths, she'd been forced to attend Magesta, a school for orphaned witches and wizards left unable to fend for themselves.

As the sorting progressed, the hat calling out the houses of each of the students in turn, Rowena began to relax.  A soft pink radiance shone like an aurora just beneath the enchanted ceiling, swaying gently.  She leaned into the carved oak back of her chair, aware of the silent wizard at her side.  From him she sensed a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts, all so well guarded that she could not touch them.  Normally, that would be a relief, but something about him fascinated her.  She wanted to know more, to understand the conflicting waves of intense emotion that swirled around him.

Unaware that she had turned to stare at him, she was caught off guard when he snapped, "What?"

"I... I..."

His obsidian eyes bored into her, daring her to explain her rude behavior.

"I'm sorry."  She dropped her gaze to her hands, which were folded in her lap.

#

Snape watched as Professor Rowan nibbled anxiously on her lower lip.  Fool!  Snapping at her was certainly a good way to welcome her.  The hubbub of the sorting finally ceased and Dumbledore pronounced the beginning of the feast.  As trays of rolls, salads and finger foods materialized in front of them, Snape served a portion of each neatly onto her plate as well as his own, then poured two goblets-full of spiced pumpkin juice.

"Thank you," she said, in a voice so small he almost couldn't hear her.

"You're welcome."  He decided against apologizing for nearly biting her head off.  Instead, he pretended it had never happened.  "After dinner, would you care for a tour of the grounds?  Hogwarts can be a bit-- confusing-- to new folk."

Her startled glance amused him.  Was he so formidable?  The corner of his lips curled into an amused half smile.

She paused, her goblet half raised, then lowered it back to the table.  "I would like that.  I feel," she cocked her head to the side, apparently searching for the right word, "not lost, exactly, but dazed.  I barely had time to settle my bag in my quarters after arriving from Hogsmeade."

"Bag?  Surely you had more than one?"

Rowena shook her fair head, shaking loose another strand of hair, a faraway look in her eyes.  "No.  Just the one."

He must have looked dismayed, for she gave him a small smile.  "Don't look so distressed.  I'm used to making do with little."

At her words, he glanced down at her ice-blue robes, this time noticing the frayed edges, the embroidery that was years out of fashion.  Not that he took the time to worry about fashion.  His own monotonous set of black robes were left strictly unadorned.

Perturbed, he turned his attention to his plate.  One thing about Hogwarts, he could never complain of the food.  Snape savored the delicate braised quail and sumptuous pudding, mopping up the sauces with a spiced roll.

It was only when the meal was through that he noticed Professor Rowan's plate.  Although the food had been pushed from side to side, she had not taken a bite.  Her attention was focused on the children, so he took the opportunity to study her more closely.  Her skin was milky pale; dark circles haunted her wide grey eyes.  A muscle twitched in her jaw and she rubbed at it unconsciously.  She looked like she hadn't slept in days.

Professor McGonagall tapped her glass for quiet and the Headmaster rose.  "I hardly think I should need to mention this, but as you all know, the forces of the dark are rising.  Although Hogwarts is warded, be alert for any activity which may seem suspicious.  We are only as strong as the sum or our parts.  Be vigilant!  That said, rest well, and be ready to give everything to your schoolwork in the morning.  First-years will please follow their prefects to their dormitories.  Let the school year begin!"


	3. Frightful Memory

Rowena followed in Snape's wake as he strode down the last flight of stairs towards the dungeon.  With his much longer legs, he moved so fast that she nearly had to run to keep up.  He stopped just outside the entryway, watching her approach with a cynical smirk on his face.  She tried to keep from panting, but she was out of breath.

"My classroom," he said, motioning her through before him.

She stepped down into the dungeon.  Shelves of potion ingredients lined the walls in dust-covered jars and phials.  A heavy mildew stench clouded the air and Rowena shivered.

"Not to your liking?" he asked.

"It just reminds me of..."

"Yes?"

"Nothing."  She had to get away.  "It's nothing.  Please, can you show me how to find my tower?"

He raised an eyebrow and crossed to a shelf, then ran a caressing finger through the heavy coating of dust on a particularly large jar of newt eyes.  "The dust does tend to collect over the summer holiday.  It will be tidier soon enough.  Detention serves me well."

Deep shadows hid in the dark places of the dungeon and the smell pressed down around Rowena.  Heavy, inky-black smoke curled like snakes, ensnaring her, holding her immobile.  She could hear the sibilant hiss, see the scarlet eyes shining from inside the depths of the pulsing gloom.  He was coming closer.  Closer.  His hot breath on her neck, skeletal fingers caressing her skin.  _Lovely Rowena, See for me..._

Rowena screamed, lashing out at the corpse-like body.  Her skin burned where his fingers traced, and he laughed, a horrible empty rattle.  Eyes like blood bored into her, swimming before her vision, taunting her.  He was so strong!  There was no way to escape.  No place to hide.  Alone.  Alone...

"Professor!"

A sharp pain in her cheek brought her abruptly back to the present.  Professor Snape held her arms pinned behind her, his right hand hovering just beside her face, staring down at her as if she were mad.

Her knees buckled and she fell full against the Potion Master's chest.  His arms wrapped around her, holding her firm.  "Please, take me out of this place," she begged, burrowing her face into the blackness of his robes.  There, she wouldn't have to see.  She wouldn't have to remember.

He hesitated a moment.  "Can you stand?"

Rowena breathed deeply, her senses assailed by a calming mixture of elm and lavender.  It clung to Professor Snape's robes like an early-morning mist.  Nothing _there_ had ever borne a scent other than pain, blood, sweat and fear.  With the comforting scent to steady her, she was able to bear her own weight.  "I can stand."

Still, she clung to Snape's arm as he led her out of the dungeon, back into the safety of daylight.

#

Aware of Professor Rowan leaning heavily on him for support, Snape moved as quickly as she could manage away from his classroom.  He fought the urge to pull her into his arms and run.  When her eyes had rolled back into her head, he'd thought she was going into a seer's trance, as he'd seen Trelawny do on occasion.  Foolish mummery, only to ensnare the weak minded.  But when she screamed...

She fought like a woman possessed, striking out at him as he tried to pull her close, to bring her back from whatever memory held her fast in its grip.  It had taken all his strength to subdue her, and he was not a weak man.  His hand still stung from when he had struck her.  It burned with the fire of guilt.  He'd had no choice, but, apart from what any might think, it went against his very essence to strike a woman.

Something had driven her into that memory.  A memory so powerful she could not fight it.  Thinking of the Dark Mark seared into his skin, and the night horrors that still haunted him these many years, he thought he recognized that power.

Bypassing the halls leading into the upper reaches of the castle, Severus led Rowena out a side door into the sunlit grounds.  As the bright light fell full upon them and sweet birdsong danced through the air, she finally released her death grip on his arm.  She glanced around, her grey eyes glinting.  "Did anyone else see?"

Severus shook his head.  "No, although I can't say if they heard.  Most of the student body thinks I practice live sacrifices in the dungeon."  He curled up the left corner of his lips and cocked his head to the side.  "I doubt your screaming will do anything to dispel that notion."

She flushed so deeply that he could see the ruby glow even through the soft wave of her pale hair.  "I must apologize, Professor Snape--"

"We are colleagues.  My name is Severus."

"Severus--  I have never been more mortified.  Forgive me."  She took a few shuffling steps towards the slope down to the lake.  She looked ready to bolt.  "I'll just take a short walk.  I'd be most obliged if you would put what happened out of your mind."

He snorted.  Faint chance of _that!_  Dumbledore had given him a duty, and now, having met Rowena, having been witness to her terror in the dungeon...  "I will accompany you.  You shouldn't be alone."

Her eyes widened and she retreated still further.  "No.  Please.  I want to be alone.  I_ need _to be alone."

He crossed the distance between them in three strides, stopping only inches from her, forcing her to look up into his face.  His expression was thunder and flame.  Anger boiled just beneath the surface, threatening to erupt.  "And what happens when he comes again, Rowena?  What happens when Voldemort comes to take you back?"

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Author's Note:  I must respond to the review left by kk.  I do not understand this at all.  Inappropriate link?  I'd appreciate it if people could take a peek at chapter one and tell me if they see any links at all.  I certainly did not include one, and if it's there, I need to take steps to find out how it got there and make it go away.  Thanks so much for checking this out.

Also, I love reviews.  I need to know what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong.  If you have anything to say, positive or negative, please let me know!  Thanks!


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